[M.D. Holloway]

So the other night I’m sitting on the couch with the family watching some Disney thing. I look over to our Son and say “Hay buddy, you like marching band music?” He says “well ya I guess so”.

BBLAAATTTTT!!! I let one rip. I guess it was the combination of 3 large garlic dill pickles, a large bean burrito and the leather sofa – the reverberation and recovery were fantastic.

“There’s a Tuba solo for ya!” I said. The kids just broke out. It even put the giggles into me that lasted for 20 minutes. Of course my Wife did not find the humor in my creative attempt at honoring John Philip Souza.

I guess a simple example of flatulence is an indication that not only do I not respect my Wife but apparently she “just doesn’t know who I am any more” either.

I liken this akin to my love of the Three Stooges which she would interpret as an acceptance of physical abuse in a sibling relationship.

To make matters worse in her eyes - and simply hilarious in mine - is that now our Daughter is giving trumpet solos much to the chagrin of Mommy.

So what is it that makes us so darn different? True, I do appreciate the sophomoric aspects of good slapstick but I also like the heady jokes put out by William F. Buckley (those are jokes right?).

Is there a deep chasm between you and your spouse when it has to do with what you consider funny?